Merry Witchmas
by hikachu
Summary: The thing with Beatrice was, Battler quickly learned, that for a haughty, thousand year old witch, she loved commercial festivities and human customs a bit too much.


The thing with Beatrice was, Battler quickly learned, that for a haughty, thousand year old witch, she loved commercial festivities and human customs a bit too much.

Sure, Battler reasoned, considering that she had always looked at the world from afar, it made sense, after all, and to be perfectly honest, deep down (or not so deep down, actually) he found that side of her endearing. However.

However, as the one who always ended up as the biggest victim of Beatrice's enthusiasm and whims, Battler couldn't suppress a shudder when, on Christmas morning, his wife approached him with an almost bashful smile.

Thinking back on it, he should have noticed something was wrong the moment he woke up to an empty bed (Battler wasn't a morning person, but there was no way Beato would get up before him) and a mansion filled with decorations.

It turned out that Beatrice, whose specialty was Western magic, had a very clear idea of what Christmas meant – or should have meant – in that side of the world, except that her plans and ambitions for the day had very little to do with religion or spirituality or the Western world in general.

"N-Nowadays Christmas… has become quite similar to Valentine's Day in Japan, has it not?"

Battler knew where this was going. The signs were all right there, as clear as day: the uncharacteristic hesitance in her voice, the brightness of her eyes and the way she cradled one of his hands between hers. It wasn't like Beato to be so shy or considerate. Unless she was going to make some unreasonable demand.

Battler knew it wouldn't end well when she took the pot from Ronove to pour him more tea personally. Battler knew he wasn't going to get away when, blushing just a bit, she even fed him his favorite cookies.

But, as a man, he still had to try.

"Well, yeah, I guess…" he conceded, chewing thoughtfully.

To Beato, Valentine's Day was a special day, because it happened only once a year and everyone made a big deal out of it and, most of all, because it eventually meant presents for her, too. Therefore, if she saw Christmas as another day to celebrate lovers…

"But don't you know that only good kids get their presents today? Ihihi, of course a witch like you would know! So, don't you think you should have been nicer to your husband if you wanted a present from him so ba—"

Battler never got to finish that sentence, and spent the following two hours reattaching his own limbs, jaw, fingers, and looking for an eyeball that had rolled all the way behind the curtains.

* * *

><p>When Beatrice was in a particularly bad mood, it was her habit to dismiss everyone, possibly break a few things and curse the source (usually Battler) of all her problems until loneliness and sadness took over her anger, and she found herself clutching Virgilia's skirts while bawling like a five year old and Ronove handed her a plate with her favorite sweets.<p>

Unfortunately for the Seven Sisters, though, today Beato had decided that the best way to vent her feelings would be to have them decorate a huge Christmas tree.

When Battler reached them in the dining room, ready to humbly ask for forgiveness and aware that it would probably cost him a life or two, he found his wife pulling Belphegor's hair and screaming at Lucifer that the star on top of the tree was still crooked and you call yourself furniture of the Endless Witch?

In the meanwhile, Beelzebub kept nibbling on a bunch of candy canes and gingerbread men that – Battler was pretty sure – were supposed to be dangling from the branches together with other trinkets.

Battler took a deep breath.

"Beato. What did Virgilia tell you about bullying the ass-nee-chans?" truth to be told, he was secretly afraid that Beato would sic the girls on him, but, no matter what, Battler had to appear cool and dignified. Cool and dignified. No matter what. Because he was the Territory Lord and an Ushiromiya, and the Ushiromiya eagle never turned back.

But Beato mustn't have really cared for any of that. Or if she did, she was either good at hiding it, or too upset to acknowledge Battler's mere presence. Which was probably the case.

Her only reaction was letting go of Belphegor's hair to pull at Lucifer's when she let out a half surprised, half grateful "Battler-sama!".

Battler swallowed. This is bad, he thought. This is really bad.

His chance to impress Beato, defrost her – delicate, obviously wounded – heart and avoid a whole week of sleeping on the couch, presented itself when, frustrated by her furniture's _incorrigible incompetence_, she decided to climb on a tall ladder, huge dress and heels still on, and fix the decorations herself: even as she stood on her tiptoes and stretched out her arms, Beatrice's outfit and height kept her from reaching the top of the tree.

After the ninth attempt, hadn't he known the extent of Bernkastel's apathy and total disregard for the wellbeing of others, Battler would have called Beatrice not shoving the glass star to the ground in a fit of frustration a miracle.

She was probably just too proud to give up in front of him. Especially after their last… argument earlier that morning.

"It's useless, it's all useless," Battler snickered, shaking his head, then climbed on the ladder to stand right behind his wife. He wouldn't waste this opportunity: he was going to butter her up and fix everything with a technique that would have made his old man's pale in comparison.

"Beato," he whispered into her ear. "You should have called me or Ronove. What if you got hurt?"

Beatrice, whose first impulse had been to elbow him in the stomach as soon as she felt an arm sneaking around her waist, stiffened.

"I-I won't, who do you think I—"

"But the Golden Witch, the master of the Golden Land, shouldn't have to do something like this…"

Asmodeus squealed. Satan scoffed.

Beatrice glared and all of the Seven Sisters disappeared at once.

Battler held her closer. "Let's forget what happened this morning, alright?"

There was some fidgeting and a long pause in response. Battler was just about to congratulate himself when Beato cackled.

"Well then… are you begging for my forgiveness, Ushiromiya Battleeer?"

"No! I—"

"Sorryyy," she cut him off, "but I didn't hear thaaat."

It was then that Battler saw it: seven nights on the couch turning into a month. A month of nonstop bullying and thirty nights without—

"Yeah," he sighed, dropping the act and his head against Beato's shoulder. "Yeah, I am. Please, forgive me, Beatrice-sama."

From her end, _Beatrice-sama_ seemed very pleased. In fact, she let out such a shrill laugh that Battler feared for his eardrums for a moment.

"Will you apologize on your knees theeeen?"

"H, Hey now, isn't that a bit—"

"Then… will you also get me a Christmas present, and cake and…"

"Alright," he sighed for the second time. "Fine. I will. Present, cake, whatever you want, just—"

"Battlerrr…!"

It all happened in a moment, and in a normal situation, it would have actually made Battler happy: Beatrice, reddened cheeks and eyes as bright as her smile, threw her arms around his neck in an adorable display of affection.

Really, it would have made him happy, hadn't they been on a ladder perched against a gigantic Christmas tree.

The crash was heard throughout the whole mansion and Fragment.

"Ba… Battler! Are you alright?"

"Yeah, of… course… because…"

Beato couldn't really make out his last words, but she thought it was something about the Ushiromiya eagle.


End file.
